Blade and Poetry

The whole town belongs to the Hoftas school.

A year ago, I took its admission letter and the accompanying identity plate, took a deep breath and stepped into the tall arched door engraved with the words "Hoftas" sword.

It is one of the most outstanding magic schools in the empire, with less than 500 students in the outer and inner courtyards.Officially, its true property is 5.4 acres.It's lush and lush, with foothills further afield, home to buildings and wondrous corners to explore — including a foodie that pops up on the road every now and then.Every year in the early summer, each of the top fields of the Empire will draw fresh blood from Hof's graduates; whether it is scientists, archmages, members of the Vanguard and Guardians, or under the command of the legendary "Blade".

I once read a year-end thesis of one of the graduates in a book: "Analysis of the Appearance Rules and Topics of the Names of 850-853 Hoftas Professors in General Textbooks"-very interesting and very A hilariously horrifying article.In addition to the innovation and discovery of the content of the topic, what I especially feel is the degree of horror of the professors and professors of Mr. Hoftas.

But I really like this: at Hoftas, everyone around you is a smart person.

In this way, the long five years of life in the outer courtyard will not be so boring.

A year ago, I and a group of freshmen gathered noisily at the entrance of the stone arch.

It took a long stretch of lawn to get to the building of the college. People from the east courtyard waited on one side, while people from the west courtyard spontaneously gathered to the other side.The West Campus is a college that majors in spells and magic patterns, and it is also the college I will be stationed in—I don’t hold any prejudice against the people who use knives in the East College, unlike some radicals in the West College, who directly call the people in the East College "Rough Warrior".

I heard the sound of debate in the crowd, so I walked in that direction and found that someone was detailing the "Boha Theory" that was only covered in third-year magic class.

"The root 'ario' cannot be used for sleeping spells. Boja's experiments proved that once its correct pronunciation takes effect, the coda will inevitably produce a throaty quiver, and the result is sleep beginning with ar. The effect of the spell 'Tranquilization, Blindness' will be destroyed by the resonance of this ario."

I saw a young man wearing rimless glasses talking freely.His black hair was combed back from his forehead, and the deep-featured Ward features and pale skin made him look like a scientist who stepped down from a black and white yearbook with a book in his arms.

Those who listened to his narration echoed in agreement.

I squeezed into the crowd and looked directly at the person: "You and Boha are both wrong. 'ario' can actually be used for sleeping spells, but the pronunciation needs to be accurately focused, especially the pronunciation of the third syllable , and other parts except the prefix should be weakened. There are books records, the spell of the ancient sea witches bewitching the sailors, the repeated key subsection is 'aridormario', they make the sailors stunned in such a melodious sound, and then drag them into Seabed——Because of curiosity, I used the Sleeping Charm to do a small test on 'ario', and tried repeatedly to read the effective pronunciation. It turns out that ario is completely feasible as the root word for sleep."

For a few seconds I saw the Ward man lost in thought, and then with the quiver of his lips, he seemed to have a sudden inspiration.

"It's worth considering. Maybe my conclusions are incomplete," he said.

He took a step forward without hesitation, squeezed his shoulder through the suit vest of the person beside him, and stretched out his hand to me: "Odgo Stanley, Class A of the Magic Department of the West Court. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I stretched out my hand and shook it back: "Vincent Xiao, it's also an honor—it seems that we can be classmates."

That's all it took for me to meet my best friend, the neighbor on the left side of my apartment room, when I was still a freshman on a rampage.

Of course, after we got acquainted, he learned that my few words about Boha's theory were just a by-product of curiosity when exploring the poems about sea witches, and when my usual magical foundation was terrible—— Ah, that's another story.

Odd doesn't throw his fist at me, he's well-bred from a literary background; I'm very thankful.

And now I am sitting dejectedly in the magic class classroom, facing the punishment that Professor Ryan is about to issue.

"Mr. Ryan, give me another two days." I stared into his eyes sincerely and said, "I have been struggling for a great spiritual cause recently, and I have overdrawn my body and soul."

"It's okay, it will get better." Ryan still smiled noncommittally, standing very close in front of me and looking down at me.I inexplicably saw a murderous look in it.

Odd was listening by the side, probably holding back a smile calmly.

I bit the bullet and said to Ryan: "I have too many things to do recently, and I slept late. Mr. Ryan, I guarantee the dignity of the pot of coffee I made this morning. You will see it in two days. My paper on fire control charms is lying in a drop box outside the office."

Ryan's gaze seemed to be a little probing: "Vicente, you know, I won't indulge you." His eyes followed my depressed head and he lowered his eyes, with a smile in his voice, "But this time I I'll give you some more time."

"I can't imagine Professor Lane agreeing to you." Odego said while taking notes quickly. "Do you still remember that I reminded you not to default on your homework? But if you work harder, let me imagine—maybe your magic score will surprise me?"

"Thank you, University Fellow, I quite like what you said. But I'm still satisfied with the magic score that doesn't lower the average score." I watched his nib slide, and the track almost seemed to be writing some kind of musical score, " All the friends who have known me in the past year know that I am an abnormal patient who loves poetry and prose but not magic patterns, and the only cost of magic is to create some gadgets for my enjoyment.”

"Don't underestimate yourself. Many people in this country will not have the talent to practice magic in their lifetime." Odd disagreed.

I fell headfirst on the desk.

"No way, I hate magic."

Odgo said slowly: "You also told me that you hate Charon flowers."

His words reminded me of the day when school started a year ago.

When Professor Ryan, as the dean of the college, led us to stroll from the West Campus to the East Campus, I saw a whole field of orange-red flowers at the junction of the Literary Building and the ground in the Liberty World.The petals of this kind of flower are not too big, and they are very softly attached to the stamen.They grow slightly above the crook of a person's knee, and their slender stalks rise vertically in a windless environment, as if they were newly planted.

They have a color that seems to burn people's eyes. As an embellishment, they are too ostentatious, and they tend to obliterate the inherent tenderness of flowers. At first glance, they don't really please me.

"Charon flower," I said to Ordgo at the time. "I hate bright colors."

Odego looked at me seriously: "Maybe when you face the blonde beauty, your attitude will be restrained."

"No, no, I prefer brunettes with blue eyes to blondes."

It happened that Professor Ryan passed by us and heard my last words. He turned his head and bowed slightly to me while walking. A strand of black hair on his forehead happened to fall next to his dark blue eyes. He joked, "My honor, my dear."

"I used to think that the professors of Hoftas were all old men with worrying hairlines." I regretted, "...and actually, what I want to say is long black curly hair. I hope that beauty just now is not ours Professor, don't remember my face either. Otherwise, how can I convince him that I'm really not that frivolous?"

Odd gloated so much that he couldn't help himself.

The visiting team stopped, and there was a commotion among the crowd.I pushed my way to the front for no apparent reason; Lane was chatting with someone who happened to be passing by.

The man was slender, with a straight back, and his eyes were extremely shallow, almost transparent gray-blue.He raised half of the corner of his mouth jokingly, and then narrowly spit out a string of fluent and rhythmic witticisms after listening attentively.This person's hair—probably counted as a very warm golden red, more orange red, I don't seem to have seen this kind of hair color in the Eastern Continent.Half-length, it is naturally gathered into a bunch at the back and hangs on the back.When the sun shines on it, it seems that the warmest smell can flow from the tip of the hair.

"Someone who is both earnest and poetic," I thought. "It stands to reason that it should be extremely accessible, but there is a certain kind of arrogance that is quite capitalized; it seems to erect an imperceptible barrier between his individuality and other people."

When preparing to move on, Professor Lane said to us: "That person is your future second-grade literature professor, Alvin Karajan."

I watched Karajan's back, and wrapped my arms around the shoulder of Odd who had just squeezed over: "Oddgo, he looks so good-looking."

Odgo stared at Karajan's hair, wrinkling his nose.

I looked back at the Charon flowers outside the Literature Building, and smiled at Ord.

"Do you think that Charon Flower is not so bad?"

Within a year after that day, I took all the basic courses required for freshmen, delayed the reports of science and mathematics, and slipped to the inaccessible place of the observatory to bask in the sun, blow the wind through the low railings, and watch the underground Flowers and plants and the college buildings piled up with bricks and stones in the distance.The weather in Hoftas is so good that the clouds drift slowly across the sky.I held the quill pen in my mouth, and when I got inspired, I drew two lines of poems on the sketchbook.

Little Odd's class schedule is much more full than mine, and he is all focused on preparing for the magic class that is only available in the second grade.His room number was right next to mine, and the doorknob had a "No One, Leave a Message" sign on it most of the time.

It was a very quiet year.Professor Ryan, who is in charge of guiding the freshmen, only appeared in the dining room at a fixed time, sat with a smile among the students and drank a cup of coffee, and then left gracefully.Odego finished the year with six A+s.My own poems and random excerpts fill most of the sketchbook.

I sat on the edge of the observatory and watched the leaf tips of the Australian maples in the college turn from green to red and back to green again.When the wind blows, they sway slightly, giving people the illusion that they can be touched by simply extending their arms.